The Dark Light in New Orleans
by hiddleshawcumberenneleckeit
Summary: To regain important and classified information from the Thieves Guild the Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement Division has to enlist the help of Gambit. On the job, he begins to grow a little too acquainted with an agent they sent along with him. Remy/OC
1. Chapter One

**Title: The Dark Light in New Orleans  
Rating: Teen  
Primary Characters: Remy LeBeau, Ansa Lindström (OC)  
Secondary Characters: Nick Fury, miscellaneous OCs  
Pairing: Remy/Ansa (OC)  
Summary: To regain important and classified information from the Thieves Guild the Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement Division has to enlist the help of Gambit. On the job, he begins to grow a little too acquainted with an agent they sent along with him.**

**Notes: Well guys, I'm not saying this is a preview... but I just wanted to post the first chapter of this short fic I'm working on. I hope everyone enjoys it. I would say that you can imagine this as any Gambit, as I imagine it as being a mix of all of them, but the time period is that of X-Men Origins: Wolverine (and Taylor Kitsch is hot, so...). Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!**

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Remy's head was pounding like war drums as his eyes opened through heavy lids. He blinked repeatedly, trying to pull himself from the sleepy haze he was in. Where the hell was he and why was he tied down? Being restricted in an unknown place didn't settle well with Remy at all, but he was sluggish from whatever drug they (whoever 'they' were) put in his system, thus making it impossible for him to perform any task properly. Remy wanted to just break loose and run, but his mind was thick and he could hardly remember his own name, let alone how to control his ability. But he couldn't allow himself to just sit here and be a captive—he was going to escape.

After another minute or so, when his brain was a little clearer, Remy heard the distant sound of footsteps and just knew they were heading in his direction. He looked at his hands, focused, focused _hard_, and could see his fingertips growing purple-red. With a smirk, he sent energy into the wrist cuffs restricting him and waited for the shock of pain he knew would come (he'd been through this enough to have built up some resistance to the painful blast). Once the wrist cuffs were off, Remy freed his legs just in time, because the door across from him opened. As a man's voice yelled, Remy grabbed the closest item to him—a plastic cup—and charged up its energy before throwing it, hitting the man's shoulder and shooting him back.

Remy ran out the door in search of an escape; he now realized he was in some sort of infirmary and about half of his wardrobe and personal belongings were missing. He could then hear a gun shooting at him from behind and only ran faster, turning a corner in time to hear a bullet buzz past his head. As he dashed through the hall, Remy assumed he had a good chance of escaping.

That was before a female slid in and roughly tripped him to the ground. Remy fell with a loud 'bang' as the woman grabbed hold of one of his arms and bent it at a dangerously uncomfortable angle. His fingers lightly skimmed over the long sleeve material of her cat suit and put a charge of energy into the wrist. As the small amount of fabric exploded the woman let out a pained yelp while jumping back from him. Remy shot up and took a fighting stance as the woman came at him, jumping up and twisting her legs around his neck, pulling him off balance and back down to his knees. When she landed back on her feet, the woman grabbed a small fighting staff from her utility belt. Remy, though, was fully prepared for any attacks she threw at him. Their fight went on with Remy destroying weapons brought out against him while the woman gave him a damn good beating; Remy could say he's never dealt with such an experienced fighter before.

"Lindström!" The woman's eyes flicked away so quickly Remy almost didn't notice before she suddenly dropped to the ground, making a path for two charged electrodes to shoot Remy in the chest. Sounds of discomfort escaped him as he stumbled around before falling to his knees. The young auburn-haired woman and black-skinned man were soon standing over him.

"Your shoulder okay, Fury?" She asked the other agent.

"Don't worry about me." His hard look gazed into Remy's red eyes as the woman squatted down next to him. She stared at his face for a few moments before wrenching to sharp Taser heads from his torso, causing a grunt to come from Remy's throat, "Mr. LeBeau, it may seem like we want to hurt you, but all we want is to enlist your help."

Remy chuckled, "Ya've done some good damage to me fo' supposed allies."

"Yer hot-headed and uncooperative." The woman said simply as she stood and pressed her heel into Remy's shoulder.

"So, if you're willing to hear us out, we won't have to be so aggressive." Remy looked between the pair of agents.

"And I don't even know ya names…" Remy muttered, "Now, if the chère will let me stand." Lindström removed her foot, allowing Remy to sit up before getting to his feet, "I would also like ta have my possessions back."

"After our talk."

The three of them walked through the halls quietly; the infirmary eventually became a hall full of agents all in similar attire, entering and exiting rooms through large metal doors. Remy watched everything with curiosity and suspicion.

"Where you exactly takin' me?"

"To talk with Director Stoner." Fury replied. Remy observed the area, searching for an escape path out of the unknown building (he honestly wanted to know who the hell these people were). He hadn't noticed that the short woman was watching him carefully.

"You're not gonna be able to escape, it would do you no good to plan an escape route." She said simply. Remy looked back at her tensely, "Trust me."

Soon, they entered a large computer filled room with the loud chatter of the agents floating in the air. Remy had to keep his jaw from dropping—this vast amount of advanced technology was a little overwhelming. A small grin came to Lindström's lips as the agents escorted Remy to a man—about fifty-five or so in age—standing with another agent, discussing whatever it was on the paper in front of them.

"Director Stoner," he looked at the two agents standing either side of Remy. He muttered something to the man he spoke to before looking back to the three.

"Let's take this to my office." The group walked to the office a floor above, overlooking the room they previously stood in, "Take a seat."

"I'd prefer ta stand." Remy replied as the male agent guarded the door, the female going to stand against the far wall near the window.

"Remy LeBeau…" Director Stoner said slowly, picking up a file folder as he sat in his large chair, "getting ahold of you was more difficult than we anticipated."

"I try ta avoid kidnappin'."

"Yet you never seem to avoid a woman with a pretty face." Remy gave the Director a confused look, "Don't tell me you forgot about that vibrant red-head asking to play more than cards."

With that reminder, Remy recalled what he was doing before he woke up in a restrictive hospital bed; he was on the move, doing a classified job in New Mexico for a client. Anyone who knew anything about New Mexico knew casinos were scattered all across the Indian reservations covering the state—Remy could never say no to some gambling. _Ever_. In one of these casinos (it was called Sky City or something similar) he met a woman who wanted to play a card game—any kind—and offered a very tempting proposition if she lost. She obviously lost and suddenly… blank.

"Agent Lindström never fails a job." Remy's eyes looked over toward the female, taking in her look carefully; he realized she was the woman from the casino. Of course, today she wasn't a red-head and had less make-up, but he saw it in her facial structure; he saw it in her eyes, "I apologize for such drastic procedures, but you could have been a threat if you weren't taken in this way."

"I can still be a threat."

"Would you try when you're in a room with three top agents?" Director Stoner raised an eyebrow.

"Of course, but maybe anotha' day." A small grin sat on Remy's lips.

"Mr. LeBeau," the Director went back to business, "would you do a job with us?"

"Name the job and the price." Remy leaned back in his chair and kicked his bare feet (since his shoes were, as of that moment, missing) up on the desk. An obvious sigh was heard from Agent Lindström.

Director Stoner looked at the agent for a moment before giving his attention back to Remy, "You know of the group the Thieves Guild, correct?" Remy visibly tensed, "I assumed so. You've done jobs with them before, you were a former member and leader, your file says—" (_'They have a file on me?' _Remy thought) "—so I can trust you're familiar with their program."

"_Quite _familiar."

"Well, they've gotten some of our property—_very_ important property—and we want it back; are you willing to handle the job for us?" Remy sat silently for some time. After some time, Agent Fury was called away and Director Stoner was growing impatient.

"Why you need me; yer agents not good 'nough?" He stole a mocking glance back at Agent Lindström for a moment.

"We don't have enough knowledge of them—they've only just come on our radar—but you do."

"I could do it… but like I said: a price." Director Stoner and Agent Lindström looked at each other for a moment.

"You set the price." Remy grinned at the Director's idea.

"Then I'll get back to you on a price; I'll take the job." Remy began walking for the door.

"Mr. LeBeau," Remy froze and turned, "it's not that we don't trust you—"

"We don't, sir." Director Stoner sent a warning glance at Lindström.

"You'll be taking a partner with you." Remy shook his head.

"No, no, no; I don' work wit' anyone."

"I'm afraid I'm not giving you a choice." Stoner turned to look at his young agent, "Agent Lindström will be accompanying you."

Lindström raised an eyebrow, "Sir?"

"You're one of the best agents I have; I'm going to need you on this." She nodded quickly, "I want you guys heading wherever it is you need to be in the next twelve hours."

Agent Lindström looked at Remy, "Follow me." Remy begrudgingly followed; he didn't work with anyone and—though he wasn't sexist—he never worked with women.

"Chère…" Lindström turned to him for a moment as they walked down the hall, "I want my possessions now, befo' somethin' bad happens."

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**So, I know that some people hate reading/writing accents and so many people write Gambit's accent, but... I dunno, I guess it feels necessary. I can't say why, I just really love his accent. Is it a problem...?**


	2. Chapter Two

**Welp, I should have tried to post this a bit sooner. I would say I was busy, but I had enough free time in my schedule to post... I guess the only thing I can say is sheer laziness is my problem. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this; I got some ideas laid out and my computer is just waiting to get some more use!**

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Agent Lindström sat uncomfortably in her small seat on the airplane taking her and Remy LeBeau to Louisiana; she would have insisted on taking one of the agency's helicopters or jets, but Director Stoner insisted it was best to keep as much attention from them as possible. And the best way to keep a low profile was being as publicly normal as required. So, here she sat—an "every day" woman traveling with her husband.

"No, chère, this can't be our cover." Remy said as he shook his head exaggeratedly while taking the papers from her hand, "We're goin' ta Nawlins, people know me there." Agent Lindström sighed lightly as she rubbed the back of her head in frustration—this man's accent was really starting to get to her. But maybe that's because she hasn't exactly encountered anyone from New Orleans before. Or maybe because it's him, "Look, chère, ya ask anyone in Nawlins who the LeBeau family is, they tell ya 'bout my fatha' and 'bout me—e'ryone in the city know us."

Agent Lindström rolled her eyes, "Fine, okay, but what do you suggest we say 'bout me, hmm? If they know you, then they'll wonder who the hell I am."

"Easy," Remy glanced around the plane cabin quickly, "I been gone a while, ya can be a frien' of mine ta some, and ta others who know 'bout ma history, ya can be a business partner." There was a stiff silence between the two for a few moments, "When we land, call ya directo' and tell 'im 'bout the change of plan."

Once more the two were silent as the mingle of voices around them filled the empty space. Agent Lindström went over their plans in her head—she reviewed what Director Stoner had planned for them, she went over the paper work, and now she went over the changes they had to make. Remy tried to find something to occupy his mind; he had is feet obnoxious up against the seat in front of him and kept his attention on his fingertips, where he formed the small purplish-red spark that could cause so much damage. Out of the corner of her eye, Lindström caught sight of Remy and quickly turned to him, wrapping her hands quickly around his.

"_Stop!_" she hissed between her teeth as her eyes scanned around at all the faces occupying the plane, "We can't afford to have someone see you." Remy let out a chuckle.

"Chère, stop bein' so paranoid." He pulled his hand from Agent Lindström's hold.

"Then stop with your powers; if you blow this, I swear…"

Remy rolled his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore (which Agent Lindström insisted on, hoping not to bring unwanted attention to his eyes), "If ya insist, chère."

"And _stop_ with that 'chère' stuff." The two stared each other down for a few moments.

"Ya're a stickler; loosen up a bit, would ya?" Lindström shook her head slightly before looking back ahead of her, "… So, do I get ta learn yer name or anythin' at all about ya?" she took a glance out of the corner of her eye at Remy, who gave her an expectant look, "I assume ya already know e'rything 'bout me."

With a final sigh, Lindström turned some in her seat to give Remy her attention, "My first name is Ansa."

"Anythin' else?"

"Does anything else matter?"

"We're workin' together."

"… I'm from Finland." Remy looked at her surprised.

"Ya sound American ta me, chère." Ansa's jaw clenched lightly.

"I lost the accent years ago; I've been in America since I was a child." She replied as she looked around herself.

"That it then—nothin' else?" Ansa shook her head.

"Don't get used to using my name or learning more about me." Remy watched her for a few moments longer, "We're only going to be partners for this—after that, it won't matter."

The rest of the flight was painfully silent as the two went about doing their own things—once or twice Ansa, would have to keep Remy from gaining too much attention, which would general get some string of angry French from the man, but besides that, nothing between the two.

* * *

Ansa and Remy entered their large hotel room silently, only taking a few moments to glance around the room before leaving each other be; Remy went into one of the two rooms as Ansa made her way toward the small balcony so she could once again call Director Stoner (Remy was only a little jealous of Supreme Headquarters, Internatio—well, whatever the hell they were called's fancy wireless communication devices that seemed decades ahead of their time to him). As Remy waited on the woman, he took the time to actually give their suite a good look—this place was _nice_, five stars kind of nice, and he didn't know whether he loved it or hated it. The room was adorned with rich colours and expensive fabrics, accented with small touches of bright, warm reds and oranges throughout; yes this place was nice, but Remy felt out of place. It had been too long since the last time he was anywhere this nice.

Soon, Ansa joined him in the main room and began to organize more of her fancy agency crap on one of the tables so she could have a space to work, "I just finished talking with Agent Fury—"

"Ya'r boyfrien' take ya call because ya director couldn'?" Remy mocked with an amused smile. Ansa responded with a sarcastic grin.

"Relationships with other agents are highly frowned upon in Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement Division." She said simply as she sat down in one of the elegant chairs, getting a simple stare from Remy (_'How could this chère even remember that name?'_), "What can you tell us about the Thieves Guild?"

"But are ya attracted ta Agent Fury?"

"My relationship with Nick isn't the topic at hand."

"Ooh, his name is Nick?"

"LeBeau, focus!" Ansa gave Remy a stern look, "Again, what do we need to know about the Thieves Guild?"

Remy sat silently for a few moments, thinking carefully about the group he was formerly a leader of, "It was started by a mutan' named Candra, who also started the Assassins Guild at the same time." Remy looked up at Ansa for a moment, who watched his each move and look carefully, "If ya were livin' in Nawlins from early on in ya life, chère, ya would 'ave been in the Assassins Guild, and we woulda been rivals." He gave her a grin before continuing, "She controlled us and used us for her benefaction, but she's been missin' fo' some time."

Ansa was taking small notes on what Remy was saying, which made him a little uncomfortable, but he pushed that aside to continue, "My father was Guildmaster fo' years till he passed it on ta me, but what could I possibly do as the master of an'thing?" an amused look crossed his features, "I din't want that life an'more, so I gave up my power and left."

"What kind of relationship do you have with the Guild now?" Ansa looked up at her new "partner" with a careful gaze.

"I haven't communicated with any of 'em in years; they weren't so happy with my leavin'." Remy stared at Ansa's hand as it wrote more across the paper, "What do they 'ave that your agency needs back?"

Ansa looked Remy in the eye for a few long moments, "I'm not sure if I can say." A small huff of a laugh escaped Remy.

"I think ya can; if I'm helpin' ya get whateva it is back, then I should know."

"Files." Ansa stared as she set down her pen, "Files for technologies that are beyond us. They pertain to mutant study and experimentation."

Remy's eyes widened, "Ya tellin' me you experiments on mutants?" he took a very noticeable step back as Ansa kept a calm composure.

"No, not us, someone else entirely; we want to know what he's trying to do with his experiments." She replied, "We don't encouraging any kind ofd experimentation without consent of the studied subject, so don't assume we're gonna offer you over to this mad scientist as soon as we're done with you."

"How do I know ya'r not lyin' ta me?"

Ansa sighed as she rolled her eyes, "Mr. LeBeau, that's not what the agency does."

"… Fine. Tell me mo' about these files."

"With those files in our possession, we kept this man from continuing his work, giving us time to try to locate and stop him; we were going to analyze what those documents contained to learn his goals and find the best way to end his work. But now that they're out of our possession, we're at a standstill. The Thieves Guild could be doing anything with those files—they could be selling them, using them for their own types of experiments—"

"The day the Thieves Guild tries ta perform experiments will be the day pigs fly." Remy interrupted with a smirk, "If an'thing, they plan to sell them or someone's asked 'em to get ahold of the files—it coulda been the man ya originally took 'em from or someone wit' similar intentions."

"Whatever the case, we need them back." The two grew silent for a few long moments, "So, we need to get into whatever is considered their headquarters and get those files back."

"It's not that simple, chère." Remy took slow steps around the room, "There ain't specific headquarters—sure, there's a usual meetin' place, but whatever valuables they obtain can be brought ta diff'rent locations. The items could be in the private safes of the diff'rent members, could be in their homes, could be an'where."

"Then how do we start?"

"I got connections 'round here; people that know people. I can ask 'round what people know about the latest news on the Guild, get a gen'ral idea o' where we can find ya'r files, and then we can find a way ta get 'em back."

Ansa stood and walked toward the window, looking down at the unique city surrounding them, "When and where do we start?"

"I'll show ya tomorrow."

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**I can't make promises on my updates, but I'll do all I can to get some more of this story posted.**


	3. Chapter Three

**Welp, a new review from **Nick Fury's Daughter** made me want to post the next chapter. It seems that some of my work for this story was lost at some point, so I'll have to rewrite chapter four before posting, but it will all get up, I promise. So, enjoy!**

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The popular Bourbon Street was bustling with life as Remy and Ansa walked amongst the crowd, running into tourist after tourist, local after local. Many would assume Remy would have been tired of this, tired of the constant energy and crowds, but he never got tired of it; he loved this about New Orleans and it was something he desperately missed. Ansa, on the other hand, already hated it. She wouldn't allow it to show, but Ansa could hardly stand being in any crowded location; it was only a wonder how she could possibly be so successful on the number of missions she's been on. She didn't like packed space, she didn't enjoy being in large groups—those were the things Remy seemed to love.

As she pushed past another oblivious pair of tourist, Ansa looked up at Remy, who had a hat pulled over his head and sunglasses covering his eyes, "Where exactly are we going?"

"Oh, chère," he started with a grin, "nowhere particular; ya're just getting the feel for Nawlins life." Ansa sighed lightly as she gave him a look.

"Mr. LeBeau, if you're taking me around the city, it would be helpful to take me places where we could get our jobs done." Remy rolled his eyes.

"No more of that 'Mr. LeBeau' stuff, chère; name's Remy, so use it."

Ansa gave him a sarcastic smirk, "Name's Agent Lindström, so use it." She mocked, getting another eye roll from her partner.

"You need to lighten up; sure, ya're workin', but enjoy the city, take in something besides work."

"Maybe the next time I'm not working I'll try that, but Director Stoner expects this to be quick and easy, especially with you here." Remy looked over his sunglasses at the short woman walking with him.

"Okay, we'll get ta work, but we're doin' it my way." Ansa nodded.

"If it gets the job done, then fine." Remy began to look around the street.

"I know where ta start." He said simply as he began to walk quickly away from the crowded street. Ansa swiftly followed after him, navigating the crowd to the best of her ability as the two found their way down toward Toulouse Street, heading east until they reached a darkly painted building with no sign indicating what it was. With closer inspection at the posters and flyers on the windows, Ansa discovered the name to be One Eyed Jacks, which caused her to raise an eyebrow toward Remy.

"What is this place?" she asked as Remy shook the door handle. The place was locked, but that meant nothing to him as he all too quickly picked the lock and allowed the two to enter.

"It's a show venue fer diff'rent kind of performances; a family friend owns the place." He walked through the building and toward the stairs; while doing so, one of the only employees there (as it was midday and the venue had yet to open) caught sight of him.

"'Scuse me, sir." Remy looked over his shoulder as Ansa watched the two for a few moments, "The place is closed, the door was locked."

"My apologies, I'm here to see your man'ger, Mr. Jacques Benoit—he's a friend." The young employee gave Remy a suspicious once over before she did the same to Ansa, who had her eyebrow raised, "Could ya tell him Gambit's here ta see 'im?" Remy continued to maintain a charming and friendly smile as the employee nodded and returned it before dashing up the stairs, "She mus' be new here, haven't seen 'er before."

Ansa looked at the old, empty venue for a few moments, "What does this Mr. Benoit have to do with the Thieves Guild?" Remy looked up the stairs for a few moments before he leaned against the railing and turned to Ansa.

"The Guilds always have a few people at hand—not official members, but they there ta help when needed. They offer us places ta store valuables, places ta hide, any info'mation they hear 'bout the opposing Guild or outside groups; Mr. Benoit is one o' those men." A moment later, small footsteps came back toward the pair as the employee came back downstairs.

"He's in his office waiting." She replied with a simple smile and final glance at Remy before going back to her work.

"Le's go, chère." Remy led the way up the staircase and toward one of the doors near the back. He quickly let himself in and the two were looking at a middle aged man with blonde hair and wrinkles that aged him beyond his years. His eyes were bright at the sight of Remy.

"Remy LeBeau… haven' seen you in a few goo' years." Mr. Benoit stood to shake Remy's hand and, when doing so, caught sight of Ansa who had a straight face, "Who's this?"

"Meg Carlton." Ansa replied in a professional voice that Remy hadn't heard before.

"She's a friend." Remy said simply as he looked about the room, "So, ya wonderin' why I stopped by?"

"I'm assumin' it's got somethin' to do wit' the Guild." Benoit replied as he sat in his large leather chair, "That's the on'y reason you eva' come to see me."

Remy gave him a grin, "Indeed it is." He sat on the worn down couch along one of the walls and patted the seat next to him, "Come on, chère, take a seat." Slowly, Ansa made her way toward the couch and sat close to Remy, "So, Jacques, I hope ya don' mind me goin' straight ta bus'ness."

Benoit shook his head, "Not at all; it's o'ny expected." The older man placed his elbows on his desk and waited.

"Recen'ly, what has the Thieves Guild trusted ya with? What info'mation or items?" Jacques looked around the room for a moment in thought.

"What ya need to know for; ya're no longer in the Guild?" Remy stole a glance with Ansa, who keep an unknowing expression on her features.

"Ya know I don' trust them an'more; they seem ta have taken somethin' important from my newest employer." Benoit looked toward Ansa for a long moment then looked up to Remy again.

"She work fo' yar employa'?" Benoit stiffened up some, "Ya know I don' want trouble wit' the Guild, I can't just keep tellin' ya information ya shouldn't know."

Remy looked at the man confused, "Ya've neva' withheld somethin' from me befo'; what's wit' the change in heart?" a challenging look came to Remy's eyes as he watched Benoit, awaiting his answer.

Benoit looked around the room, "The Guild's come down on me an' others pretty hard; they could learn I told ya somethin' and that would be the end o' me." He stood from behind his desk as he ran a hand through his thinning hair, "I don' want ta get in trouble, ya know what they could do to me."

"They never been harsh on unofficial members befo'." Remy looked at Benoit confused and caught Ansa making a move to stand out of the corner of his eye, "Jacques, we need ya ta tell us what ya know."

"I can't."

"What price would it take?" Ansa suddenly asked, getting the attention from both men; she had been there silently for so long that hearing her voice again was odd, "Whatever you want for the info, we'll give ya." Benoit stared her in the eye for a few long moments, silently analyzing her words for truth.

"… Depends on specifics; ya obviously want somethin' specific, so wha' is it?" Ansa stood slowly to walk toward the man, taking a stop five feet from him.

"Documents."

"Documents? What kind."

Ansa looked back at Remy as she thought about what was the appropriate amount of information to share with this stranger she knew couldn't be trusted. With a stern face, she continued, "Have they mentioned anything about documents from a government agency?"

"Well… seems I heard somethin' 'bout that befo'." Benoit began to pace slowly toward the window then back, "They say somethin' 'bout files for a buyer, secre' files taken from… hell, I dunno, it was one hell o' a long name."

"Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement Division." Ansa replied quickly, automatically.

"Ya need ta work on short'nin' that." Remy said simply, getting a glance from Ansa.

Jacques stared for a moment, "I b'lieve so."

"What did they say 'bout the files?" Remy asked as he set his elbows on his knees. Jacques' eyes shifted between the pair.

"I need money." Benoit replied, "City wants to close my place 'less I get the money. So, I need 'nough money to keep dis place open."

Ansa rolled her eyes, "It's always about money…" she walked toward the door to stepped out of the office for a few minutes.

"She's gon' make a call ta her boss." Remy said, "She'll get ya yer money in record time."

"How can I trust 'er?"

"Lez just say you don't not wanna trust her." Remy smirked at Benoit, "Now, Jacques, where can I fin' these files?"

Benoit took a nervous look around the room, "Las' I checked… Marius Boudreaux had 'em." Remy's eyes widened as he tensed up, "They may be Assassins Guild, but they trusted because of ya marriage—"

"_Stop!_" Remy's hands gripped the edge of the couch roughly as he looked at the ground, "What he plan ta do with 'em?"

Remy thought he saw a grin cross Jacques' features, "Sell 'em back to their owna'… or, if they get a higha' offer… sell 'em to someone else." Benoit and Remy stared at each other silently.

"When they sellin'?"

"I know nothin' else—promise."

Ansa walked back through the door and looked between the men, "Expect your money tomorrow."

"Lez go." Remy walked toward her and looked back at Benoit for a moment, "If an'one learn I been here…" Benoit gave a quick nod before the two exited the room, "A'ight, chère, we need to start plannin'."

The two walked back out onto the street and began walking in the general direction of their hotel, "Where're we gonna find the files?" Remy looked at her briefly before replacing his sunglasses back on his face.

"Wit' an ol' friend…" the silence again grew between the pair as they walked through the busy New Orleans streets. Ansa watched Remy during that time; she couldn't see his eyes, but she could tell something changed his mood, something brought his mood down. She wouldn't ask about it, at least not yet.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Remy made his way quickly to his room and began going through the small bag of his belongings. With a raised eyebrow, Ansa followed behind him and leaned on the door frame, watching for a few moments.

"Imma go out tonight, chère." Remy said simply as he pulled from his bag a large, dark trench coat.

Ansa walked toward him, "Mr. LeBeau, we need to get this taken care of before the files go missing again." Remy glanced at her as he pulled on the coat.

"It'll be fine for one more ev'ning—I need time ta figure out a plan." He replied while walking past Ansa to their main room.

'I can't allow ya to go out on your own." Remy frowned slightly, "Director Stoner's orders. His other order was to get this mission done."

"We will, chère—it takes time." Ansa sighed, crossed her arms, and stared him down.

"LeBeau, we can't have you wasting time."

"Chère, I need ta take some time." Remy said sternly. Their eyes locked for a few long, tense moments.

Finally, Ansa tilted her head to the side and turned toward her room, "Then I'll have to go with ya." Remy let out an exasperated sigh.

"I don' need a babysitta'." He replied roughly as the agent walked into her bedroom, "Jus' stay here fo' the night." He followed her, grabbing her by the elbow as she reached for her suitcase, "_Chère_."

She turned to give him a firm glare, "LeBeau, I'm going with you."

"_No_, you're not—I t'ink I'll be fine fo' a couple hours by myself." Again, they stared at each other, both determined to make the other look away first. It was Ansa that finally turned away, tugging her arm from the Cajun's hold.

"A few hours… then you haveta be back; we can't let you get distracted on this mission." Remy grinned largely as he swiftly left the room. It took him less than a minute to collect his things and soon he was walking out the door.

"Try notta leave the room, chère." He called while closing their door.

Ansa rolled her eyes, "Not a chance."

* * *

**Everyone happy? Satisfied? Craving more?**


	4. Chapter Four

**So, I've been writing _a lot_ of this in the past few days. I've been on vacation in a place with shitty internet connection, so the fact that I can post this right now is awesome. The good thing about the shitty internet is how much time I've had to work on some of my stories (or all the time I've wasted on photoshop...). Anyway, enjoy, 'cause things are exciting!**

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Remy had been in the small gambling club for nearly four hours, having forgotten the stress from his meeting with Jacques that day. He was his usual self, winning game after game, flirting with the women, taunting the men. He enjoyed this, missed the New Orleans life. Sometimes, he wished he had never left.

Unknown to him, Ansa was sat at the bar, keeping an eye on his every move. She looked just like every other girl in the place, skirt just a little too short and make-up in near perfect condition; one of her talents was looking as if she always belonged in a place, and that's what made her so good at her job.

A couple different men would flirt with her, and she thought to amuse them with flirting back, allowing them to buy her a drink if they insisted (though she would simple rid of it when they weren't looking)—it was a game to her. Remy got his joy from gambling and playing with cards, Ansa got hers from acting and pretending to be something she wasn't.

At one point in the evening, a new man approached Ansa, a confident grin on his face. He was definitely a handsome guy, she could give him that—tall, well-toned, and tan-skinned. He was getting the attention of many women in the room. Ansa eyed him carefully as he settled in the bar stool beside her.

"I haven' seen you aroun' here befo'." He said while waving over the bartender, "It's always nice ta meet a new face."

"I'm traveling." She replied with an alluring smirk.

"Oh, outta-towner." He continued to smile at her as his eyes looked her up and down, "I'm Claude." He took a hold of her hand and kissed her knuckles delicately—Ansa had to refrain from rolling her eyes.

"Meg Carlton." She said quickly, allowing him to hold onto her hand for another moment longer. Claude ordered two drinks with names Ansa didn't recognize and soon he was handing one to her.

"This place is famous fo' these." He assured while taking a sip of his. Ansa brought the glass to her lips and allowed only a bit of the beverage into her mouth. She would admit, it was sweet and delicious and interesting, but drinking too much on the job wouldn't be in her best interest.

"I can see why." She replied and allowed him to talk for a few minutes. The whole time, Ansa's eyes kept drifting back to Remy, who never left the gambling table he was at, now with a few people standing around to watch.

"You know him?" Claude asked, pointing toward Remy. Ansa turned her attention back to the new man.

"Oh, no, I'm just watching the card games." She said innocently, adding a little shrug at the end.

"Really? You seem'ta be watchin' him quite caref'ly." Ansa, shook her head again. Claude's eyes narrowed slightly, "You don' know LeBeau?" At that, the agent's expression faltered—only slightly, and she quickly regained her composure, but it was just enough for Claude to catch. He grinned slightly, "Ah, so you do know 'im."

"How could I possibly know this… LeBeau, did you say?" She gave him a curious look, hoping to weaken his suspicions.

"Why don' you tell me?" He leaned toward her, causing Ansa's eyes to widen—whoever this was, he was the wrong man to be talking to.

Ansa stood swiftly, "Look, I think you're just confused—"

He grabbed hold of her arm roughly, "No, no I'm _definitely_ not confused." After a quick glance around, Ansa made eye contact, glaring threateningly at the man. Without a word, she kicked her leg up and shoved her heel in his stomach roughly, causing him to grunt and release her as he fell from his barstool.

Ansa quickly began walking through the club, pushing past people in hopes to get out without too much attention drawn to her. But the people that were near she and Claude had all looked toward her and now, as Claude pulled himself back up from the ground, he was calling for someone. Ansa walked faster toward the exit, but the slight commotion got much attention. Particularly Remy's. He looked around curiously, before his eyes landed on Ansa as she moved to the door. She looked back to scan the crowd, eyes staring toward Claude for a few moments, before she accidentally met Remy's gaze. In a rush, she pushed open the door and disappeared. Quickly, Remy stood and dashed through the crowd to catch her, unaware of the encounter she just had.

"Chère!" He called, turning into the building she disappeared into. Ansa came to a halt and turned to face him, her expression calm, but eyes livid as they stood in the front entrance of another club, "What you done?"

"Someone got suspicious, I had to get out." She replied. Together, the two moved carefully through the people, "Called himself Claude."

Remy froze, eyes widening. He threw his gaze back to the door just as Claude and a couple other men entered. He muttered curses under his breath before he set a firm hand on the small of Ansa's back and began pushing her through the people, toward the back.

"_Who_ _is he_, LeBeau?" she muttered.

"We needa ge' outta here, chère." He replied simply as he kept his head low, "We got some vis'tors from da Thieves Guild." Ansa began looking around herself carefully, eyes landing on Claude who had yet to see the pair, but it seemed a companion of his did.

"They're following us."

"_Merde_." The pair began to speed through the building, finding their way to the back door and pushing it open. They found themselves in an alley between two clubs, "How close were they?"

Ansa looked back up at him, "They'll be out here any second now." Remy removed his hand from her back and quickly grabbed his staff from one of the inner pockets on his trench coat, pressing a button and extending it to its full length.

"Don' let dem get a good look at ya face," he began, "We don' wan' the resta the Guild knowin' about ya."

"Too late for that." Ansa muttered, but nonetheless pulled two hand staffs from _somewhere_ under her dress (Remy didn't exactly want to know how she hid those). The door began to open quickly as Ansa jumped up onto a fire escape, just narrowly getting out of their sight. The four men approached Remy, all giving him menacing looks.

"Been a while, Remy." One of Claude's accomplices said simply, "Now, what you doin' back 'ere?"

"Good to see ya 'gain, Ansel." Remy replied while firmly holding his staff.

"An' where's that girlfriend of yers? Scared her away like all the othas?" Claude asked, grinning largely, "She was qui' feisty."

With a raised eyebrow, Remy looked up for a moment, getting the men to turn suspiciously to see whatever got his attention. Before they could see anything, though, Ansa jumped down onto one of the four, a rough _'smack_' heard as her staff hit him across the face. In a flurry, the others began to pull out weapons as Remy grabbed his deck of cards, charging a handful and throwing them quickly. Ansa tumbled out of the line of fire as she gave Remy a look.

"A warning next time!" She said firmly while the other three Guild members recovered from the hit. Remy grinned as he ran toward them, smacking Claude's knees out from under him with the staff. Ansa also ran into the fight, jumping gracefully onto Ansel's back and pressing her hand staffs painfully against his throat. Remy focused on the other two, fighting both at once while Ansa choked the large man. Remy shot out more cards, harming his opponents briefly.

Swiftly, Ansa threw a knife at one, shooting it into his knee which caused him to release a scream of pain. He fell to the ground, giving her enough time to go at him, rendering him unconscious in seconds. As she did so, a sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she snarled. She looked over her shoulder to find the last man unconscious.

"Damn it, LeBeau, tell me that wasn't one of your cards." She said in pain. Remy jogged to her side, taking a look at her injury.

"My 'pologies," he said simply as he looked around, "We shoul' get outta here before somethin' worse happens." With a groan, Ansa stood and began to walk quickly with him, though she had a slight limp to her step.

Once they got back to their hotel, Ansa walked to the bathroom to get a better look at her shoulder. She turned and pushed her hair out of the way, noticing that she also had a decent scrape on her thigh, though it wasn't nearly as bad as what happened to her shoulder, "This is what I get for wearing a dress with half a back…" Remy chuckled some, but held his hands up defensively as he received a glare from the woman.

"I said I was sorry, chère." He replied and walked up behind her, "I didn' expect it ta hit you, let alone harm you like dat." Ansa continued to glare at him in the mirror before she walked into her room. Remy followed swiftly, keeping his eyes on her, "It's not gon' need stitches, is it?"

Ansa scoffed, "Definitely not." She said, getting a first aid kit from her bag, "Still gonna need to be tended to." Ansa walked to the large mirror in the bathroom again and began pulling some supplies from her kit.

"You gon' need help wit' dat?" Remy walked up to her, studying the injury he caused. With cold eyes, Ansa looked up at him, but after a moment she nodded.

"Injuries on the shoulder are tough to take care of on your own." She said simply. She went to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub as Remy stood close. He picked up the rubbing alcohol and a towel as she dug in the kit a little more.

"Jus' tell me if I'm doin' somet'ing wrong." Ansa pulled at the dress as best she could to keep it out of the way while Remy poured alcohol on the cloth in his hand. As Remy worked, he found his eyes roaming the skin of her back; being able to feel how soft it was didn't help him much; he didn't need to be getting distracted. But as he kept looking her over, he could have sworn he saw a tattoo peeking out on her side, causing him to grin. He quickly shook himself out of it—he just needed to finish taking care of the wound.

It didn't take very long to finish and soon Remy had put a bandage over her shoulder blade. Ansa turned to look at him.

"Well… now you can get out." She said simply, causing Remy to grin.

"How sweet of ya." He replied as he began heading for the door. He stopped and looked over his shoulder for a brief moment, "You're welcome, chère." He was soon gone, leaving Ansa to relax.

* * *

**Now that I have so much more written, I might be able to post a little quicker. But I'm lazy and forgetful and who knows when I'll suddenly be hit with writer's block. But before that happens, I plan to write as much as I can.**


	5. Chapter Five

**Well, here's the next chapter. I don't really have anything to say about it, but I can assure you that the next few chapters will be good ones.**

* * *

It was past midnight when Ansa walked into the main room to find Remy on the couch watching TV, clad in a pair of sweatpants and a tight wife-beater. He looked up at her for a moment, giving a small grin as she at the opposite end of the couch silently.

"Can't sleep, chère?" He asked. Ansa glanced at him as she tried to settle in her seat.

"I've never been very good at falling asleep." She replied, "You?"

"Not tired." The two became quiet again for a few long moments, "The Guild's prolly onto us now."

"I assumed that much." She said, "That makes our job all the more difficult, and we've been here for less than forty-eight hours. Their suspicions will make them more alert."

Remy nodded, "We needa be in an' out quicker than expected, they might discover wha' I'm here fo'." He turned to glance at his temporary partner, eyes looking her up and down briefly, "And you needa make sure to keep yo' face hidden."

"LeBeau, one of them has already seen my face. Besides, I'm a special agent, I can handle it."

The man shook his head, "Ya don' know the Guild like I do." He said, "They'll use ev'ry means possible to learn who you are. An' they know 'bout your agency." Ansa glanced at him in doubt, "Chère, trust me on dis."

She laughed, "Trust you? LeBeau, you're a thief for hire."

He rolled his eyes, "An' you hired me, so you gotta give me some trust." Ansa looked away, "Wha' can I do to gain ya trust?"

"Try not to hit me with your cards again." She said quickly and, though he was amused by her sarcasm, Remy gave her an expectant look. Ansa let out a sigh, "You can't do much of anything—I don't trust easy. I don't even trust Director Stoner, not entirely." She replied.

Remy narrowed his eyes in thought, "But there's gotta be someone ya trust." Ansa looked back at him, "An' how did they gain dat trust?"

"What about you—do you trust me?" Ansa said quickly to move the conversation on. Remy rolled his eyes.

"No."

"Then see, we're good; neither of us trusts the other." She slumped in her seat, only wincing slightly as her shoulder rubbed the couch funny.

"Shouldn' we, though?" He asked simply. Ansa looked up at him briefly before looking toward the television.

"After this mission is complete, we won't see each other again—what's the point?" Remy let out a frustrated groan.

"We shoul' be trustin' each other on this mission." He replied firmly while leaning toward the young agent, "How can we complete dis withou' trust?"

Ansa rolled her eyes, "Don't sound so cheesy, it's not suiting." She stared back at him, "I've worked with hundreds of people who I haven't trusted, and we've completed missions just fine."

"You don' get it," he started, "I wan' to trust ya, or I won' be finishin' this mission." Ansa stared back at him surprised, but soon looked doubtful.

"You can't just _not_ finish this." Remy grinned.

"You so sure 'bout dat, chère?" She stared back crossly, determinedly, but the Cajun stared back just the same.

"This is a game to you." Ansa said suddenly, shaking her head in annoyance, "You can't just expect trust to happen, you know."

"Then make it happen." With a heavy sigh, Ansa stood and walked back toward her room.

"I'm going to bed." Remy watched her in contemplation as she closed the door.

* * *

The next day, Remy was leading Ansa through a large, expensive neighbourhood. They both kept their heads low, by Remy's insistence, and walked in silence. There were few people around, surprising Ansa some, but she was thankful for that—she wouldn't have to pretend she and Remy were companions. Since their little dispute the night before, she didn't want him to think they were on perfect terms. After giving their conversation some thought, she tried to figure out why trust was so damn important to the Cajun, but she eventually decided on simply dropping it—she didn't think it was so vital.

Of course, Remy was also hoping he was giving Ansa a bit of a cold shoulder. When he thought about it, he really didn't know this woman at all. She knew nearly everything about him since reading the files that Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement Division had on him, and yet he was still in the dark. Sure, he knew she was from Finland, but that was the extent of it. For all he knew, she could have a family—what if she was a soccer mom and he had no clue of this? Obviously, she didn't seem like one at all, but Remy decided that he couldn't just eliminate the possibility without knowing the truth.

As the neighbourhood grew more and more familiar to Remy, he began to slow some, eyes scanning everything carefully. Ansa took immediate notice of the change in his behaviour—they were close. Close to what, she wasn't sure. Remy refused to tell her where they were and why. But she knew it was important; the significance was obvious from Remy's actions.

Ansa began to look more closely at their location, trying to find anything that was suspicious or that seemed out of place. However, there was nothing. Whatever had Remy unsettled was much less obvious.

Eventually, the Cajun came to a halt, getting Ansa's attention. She watched his face closely for a few moments as his eyes looked across the street from them. When she followed his gaze, Ansa was simply looking at a home just like all the others.

"What's in there, LeBeau?" The agent finally asked in a careful tone. Remy startled slightly, not expecting to hear her voice, but recovered himself quickly. He stared another moment longer before slowly turning his head to look down at her. He tried to avoid her eyes, but her gaze pierced his immediately, causing him to accidentally stare.

After a long period of silence, Remy eventually found his voice again, "Tha' the home o' Marius Boudreaux…" His tone seemed to fall at the name, eyes casting down for a brief moment. Ansa raised an eyebrow expectantly when Remy's eyes met hers again, "He was the patriarch of the Assassins Guild."

"And why are we here?" The agent turned her gaze back toward the house, eyes scanning its windows quickly.

"Accord'in' to Jacques, Boudreaux was las' seen wit' the files ya want." Ansa watched Remy carefully, taking in even his slightest actions—he had a history with this Marius Boudreaux. Whatever that history was, it negatively impacted Remy; that much was obvious. His shoulders slouched just the slightest, he continued to gaze at the ground, and his mind seemed a little distant. Ansa was curious now—there was absolutely no mention of any Boudreaux in Remy's files. She was determined to figure out the relationship they had so she was prepared.

"You have a plan?" She asked. Ansa watched his face carefully before she looked back to the expensive home—from their location, she couldn't tell what kind of security the man might have, "I'm assuming you're not planning to just bust in."

"Definitely not, chère." Remy replied slowly as his eyes also studied that familiar house, "We needa figure out whe' we can get in undetected."

"If he's in the Assassins Guild, then he's fully prepared for break-ins." Ansa said, looking to Remy for confirmation.

He gave a quick nod, "Tha's the hard part."

Ansa let out a sigh, "Just fantastic…"

"Das why we stopped by," Remy responded as he turned a corner and leaned against the fence of another home—from this location, they wouldn't be seen so easily from Boudreaux's home, "I wanted ta get a look, see if an'thing's changed in his security."

There were a few long moments as Ansa moved to stand beside him and watch his face, "When you've been here before, what was the security like?"

Remy's eyes widened in surprise a little, and he quickly turned to look at the agent, gaze meeting hers over the rim of his sunglasses, "Wha' makes ya t'ink I've been 'ere before?"

"It's obvious." Ansa replied with an eye roll, "You have a past with this guy."

Remy could feel his heart rate increase with anxiety—he was really hoping it wouldn't be so obvious. But she was a special agent; he should have expected her to figure it out. Now, though, he had to explain the relationship he had with Boudreaux—something he was _really_ hoping to avoid. He stared at Ansa for a few long moments, calming himself as he tried to figure out what to share with her.

"… Not 'ere." He finally spoke. Without a thought, he took a hold of her arm and began to pull her hastily away from the Boudreaux home. Ansa glared slightly at the back of his head and tugged from his hold, but she kept pace with him. This was much bigger than she first assumed.

It took nearly ten minutes for Remy to finally stop his rapid pace, bringing himself and Ansa into a smaller neighbourhood. Now, he halted and thought, the agent giving him as much time as he needed to figure it out. He began walking again, but now slowly. Ansa walked alongside him, watching his face carefully.

"So, LeBeau, what's the story?" She asked. Remy was quiet for a few moments longer.

"Ya already know the Assassins Guild and Thieves Guild have a hist'ry…" he started, still thinking about how much to tell the woman, "Marius Boudreaux… well, some time ago, he an' the Thieves Guild came ta form an alliance, of sorts."

"How'd the alliance come about?" Ansa asked curiously.

Remy's jaw clenched as he kept his eyes forward, "I don' know the answer ta dat."

It was a lie. That much was obvious to Ansa as she watched her companion. If he didn't want to tell her, then she'd get the answer out of him later.

"And what happened to the alliance?"

Remy shrugged just a little too quickly, "Some conflic', I s'ppose—it seems, though, dat the alliance is momentarily reestablished, fo' whatever reason."

The two walked until they had reached shops and restaurants, a larger number of people on the streets. At that point, Ansa had realized her growing hunger (why did she choose to skip breakfast?) and looked around till her eyes found a coffee shop. She quickly secured her hand in the nook of Remy's elbow. He let out a slight huff of surprise as he allowed her to drag him inside.

"You'll have to explain some more." Ansa said as they stood in line to order their drinks, "If we're gonna get into Boudreaux's home, I need to know everything you know."

"Maybe not ever'thing…" Remy muttered, receiving a stern look from Ansa.


End file.
